


Wanted Dead or Alive

by sea_murai



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Bon Jovi Songs, Canon-Typical Violence, Dancing, Decapitation, Don't worry it's just Johnny and V kicking some ass, Explosions, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Grenades, I did not proof read this properly, Johnny is offended V doesn't know what Bon Jovi is, Post-Canon, Shooting, Shooting Guns, Stabbing, They bicker a little but it's with affection, V loves her blades, and Johnny loves his Malorian, as per usual, if you consider dancing while coated in blood romantic, this man acts all tought but he's a romantic deep down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29930661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_murai/pseuds/sea_murai
Summary: Johnny decides the perfect moment to dance with V to the sound of Bon Jovi is right after a massacre.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Wanted Dead or Alive

**Author's Note:**

> This was super fun to write and edit, even though I wrote this two weeks ago and was simply procrastinating the editing part. I hope this brings you some enjoyment :)
> 
> Title is after Wanted Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi, and I would like to thank my angel [Tezza](https://eurodyness.tumblr.com/) for helping me pick the song! This fic would not have happened without her. <3
> 
> Rated M for Violence.

‘That’s eighteen on my score! Better up your game, Via’.

V glanced at Johnny from the corner of her eye, unsurprised to see his cocky smile practically shining with pride. Gunshots echoed as his Malorian hit a perfect headshot on another gangster.

Her cynical laugh had a manic edge to it, pumped by adrenaline that coursed through her veins like wildfire. It dropped to a chuckle as she muttered a promise to surpass him under her breath, focus never leaving the battle. The Mox pistol in her right hand aimed at a gangster’s foot and shot twice mercilessly. He swore loudly and dropped his gun, giving the merc the perfect window to start running towards him. Skilled fingers slotted the gun back in its holster and unsheathed Kiyohime from V’s back with a sharp hiss, cutting through air and reflecting the scarlet red from its blade onto the floor. Her feet were quick and agile, sliding against the blood on the marble floor without losing balance and dodging bullets thrown her way. With a quick flick of her hand, the katana sliced the stomach of the man whose foot she had shot. When he fell to his knees with screams escaping his lips, his head was the next part to come clean off. She kicked it out of the way. 

Using her right forearm to push against the dismembered corpse, she made a human shield out of it, protecting her from incoming bullets. It shook heavily against her but didn’t budge. Her left hand reached for a frag grenade kept on a belt around her waist, fingers guided the pin to her mouth. She pulled it and tossed the grenade right behind the counter three other men were hiding, then threw another one for good measure. Before it exploded, she pushed the body to the side and took shelter behind a pillar.

The explosion sent glass, debris, blood and chunks of human parts flying in various directions.

‘ _Baciami il culo_ , Johnny, that’s twenty-two!’, yelled V, satisfaction written all over her voice and features. 

‘Don’t get too cocky’.

The two of them always had way too much fun with their little kill count competition than they should. It started as a way to annoy each other, but like everything they come up with to see which one of them is more stubborn, it escalated into major proportions. Bets came into play, with Johnny going as far as keeping tabs on a board back at camp. Mitch, Carol and Cassidy had fun constantly betting on which one of the two of them would achieve the highest count whenever they left on a gig. 

They could never take themselves completely seriously whenever combat started because of it.

And this gig was perfect for them. It gave them the freedom to worry about their kill count and nothing else, given how straightforward and simple their objective was. They were to eliminate a gang whose name V could no longer recall from a market place in a random town in Nevada. The fixer who set them up for the job was an impatient and tough individual with bright green hair and shiny cyberware that went by Butcher, and they wanted the goons out of their turf. As soon as they heard V and Johnny were in town, they practically chased the couple down — and consequently the Aldelcados —, saying something about wanting to see if their reputation preceded or if it was all bullshit.

Butcher told them to get rid of the goons as they saw fit; didn’t care how, as long as the entire place wasn’t completely blown to bits and there were bodies to account for the next day.

So far, they had cleaned more than half the market, leaving a ridiculous amount of bodies for two people to have killed, and had forced the remaining gangsters into a large department store. 

V sheathed Kiyohime again and reached for the purple pistol with quick fingers, already aiming at her next targets. 

Johnny wasn’t far, shooting and throwing grenades and yelling numbers, while she did the same, both trying to outdo each other. She fired flawless headshots as she ran straight into danger, popped her mantis blades out and slashed enemies until they bled out all over her, set fire to gangsters hiding behind counters and kept an eye out for Johnny all the time, while he did the same for her, eliminating anyone that tried to sneak up on her.

They worked together in perfect harmony, serving as each other’s eyes and ears where their own couldn’t reach; taking down anyone that dared to cross their way with impeccable precision. She could predict his movements the same way she had memorised the lyrics to her favourite songs, and she loved to see how their combat styles had meshed together and become this unique dance that worked flawlessly for the two of them, but would get anyone who tried to copy their movements killed. 

The spilt blood that coated the white floors wasn’t about to go to waste. V saw the opportunity and took it, using it to her advantage, sliding across the scarlet liquid and slicing enemies with her blades and sword. More shots were fired and the lamp above her shattered, bringing glass shards down on her like rain. She jumped to the side with barely enough time to escape the sharp pieces, feeling blood trickle down her skin where cuts opened. V swore and carefully lifted herself off the floor, avoiding glass from causing further damage. More guns were fired; this time it was Johnny putting a bullet through one of the goons who were about to shoot her.

He switched between gunshots and grenades, while she continued with her offensive fighting style, bringing them down one by one.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a broad man, heavy hammer in hand, heading towards Johnny’s way in hard steps. Her fingers reached for two knives from the holsters wrapped around her thighs and threw them with impeccable precision without a second thought. One of the blades pierced the skin and flesh between his eyes and the other one went through his throat with a sickening sound. He dropped on his back with a loud thud.

When Johnny turned to express his contentment, she blew him a kiss.

There weren’t many of them left by now. While Johnny chased down two idiots that were hidden behind a counter, shouting and swearing over their shortage of ammo, V turned to the large gangster that was making his way to her in imposing strides. He was large and broad, had murder written all over harsh features and marched towards her intending to kill her with nothing but bare chrome hands by the looks of it.

As he continued walking forwards, she started jogging backwards, dodging the objects he launched in her direction. Vases and statues shattered on the floor next to her feet, chairs flew over her head and microwaves shattered against the walls. 

When a boom box flew her way, she huffed in annoyance.

‘You can’t be fucking serious’.

‘Need a hand, princess?’, Johnny chuckled from somewhere to her right.

_‘Vaffanculo_ , Johnny!’.

‘Get over here and fuck me yourself’, though she couldn’t see him, she knew he had that shit-eating grin plastered all over his lips.

‘Later’.

Satisfied with the distance she put between them, V ran forward and used the blood on the floor to slide under his legs. Her mantis blades drew gashes on the pieces of skin that weren’t chrome on his legs. He staggered, cursed and swore. She rapidly rose from the ground, used his wobbled left knee for a boost and hopped onto his back, heading for his neck.

Her blades sliced through the man’s throat with ease, a cascade of scarlet liquid overflowing from the huge gashes. He gagged and choked on his own blood, shaky hands reaching for the teared up skin in a desperate and worthless attempt to cling to life. Now lifeless, the man dropped down onto the floor face-first with a thump, and the sickening crash of the bones of his nose being crushed against tiles echoed in Viola’s head. She got up and stepped away from the body just as a gunshot echoed in a corner behind her. Another body dropped, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Johnny spinning the Malorian in his hand. 

The lively silver of V’s eyes were replaced with neon blue as she scanned the deserted store for any gangsters lurking in the shadows. When she found nothing, she smiled to herself with satisfaction.

‘That’s all of them by the looks of it. And that’s twenty-seven on my score’.

Johnny made his way to her in quick, long strides. His silver hand carefully took her arm while his organic index and thumb gently held her chin, tilting it as he looked for injuries. He brushed and picked at loose pieces of glass on her hair, careful not to cause damage.

‘You’re bleedin’ a little’, he said, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

V’s heart swelled, but she waved a dismissive hand.

‘It’s nothin’, just a few scratches. The blood on me is practically all theirs. You good, though?’

‘Pfft. These idiots couldn’t hit a target with a bazooka if it was right in front of em’.

V laughed amusedly at first, but her smile turned mischievous when she remembered he hadn’t stated his kill count yet.

‘So? Gimme your numbers.’

Johnny’s grip on her chin tightened just a little. He looked down at her, exasperation written all over his face.

‘Twenty-six’. 

V’s lips curled up even more.

‘Oh, thats-’

Before she could finish her sentence, Johnny cut her off by placing his lips on hers. She immediately melted into him, relishing in the way his grip on her chin tightened again. When he pulled away and dropped his hand, she knew he was holding back a grin.

‘Shut up, Aragona, job ain’t done yet’.

With a final peck to her lips, he sauntered away. 

Her eyes drifted down to her arms, the long sleeve t-shirt enforced with bulletproof material and her pants. So much blood. It dripped from her collarbones to her chest, covered a good chunk of her arms and though it didn’t show much on her black leather pants, black top and Aldelcados jacket, she knew it would probably stain. Her boots were slippery from it, and with a quick look to the mirror beside her, she saw the droplets of scarlet liquid were all over her face and hair. 

Johnny had some blood splattered across his face, vest and arms, but since his style wasn’t as offensive as hers, it wasn’t absurd. 

V shook her head, wondering how he could look so fucking good all the time. His dark, silky hair was secured behind his head in a bun, a few loose strands clinging to his forehead and cheeks with sweat. His shades were now tucked over his head, showing deep brown eyes that shimmered with adrenaline. When he crouched to search one of the corpses, her eyes drifted down to his flexing biceps and forearms, and she caught herself thinking about how much she loved how strong yet lean he was. When he crooked his neck to the side a little, she stared at the exposed skin, thinking about how she wanted to _bite and kiss-_

She shook her head again. Not the time for that, she reminded herself, heading to the opposite corner. Hands gripped at the handle of the knife engraved between the skull of a very tall person. Planting her right foot on their shoulder and keeping her left one on the floor next to their left shoulder for support, she pulled the knife out, emitting a squishing sound as blade left flesh.

V moved onto the other bodies, taking ammo, grenades, eddies and whatever else she found interesting. She hummed distractedly along to the music that echoed across the store, swaying her body a little to the rhythm every now and then. 

Left hand reached for the pocket of her pants absentmindedly, pulling out a cigarette pack and her lighter — black, with a handmade painting of the Death tarot card that Misty herself painted — and placing a cigarette between her lips. Lazy fingers flicked the fire to life, bringing it to her lips and lighting up her cig. She stuck the lighter back in her pocket and took a long drag of smoke, relishing in the way it filled her lungs.

‘Viola!’.

Immediately, the merc dropped her unfinished search, whipped out her pistol and ran towards Johnny’s voice as fast as her short legs would take her. Heartbeat increasing with each step, blood rushing to her head and stomach sinking a little, she found Johnny by the radio, but nobody else was around. 

‘Johnny? What’s wrong?’, she inquired, alarmed. 

‘How could anythin’ be wrong, V? D’ya not hear what’s playing?’.

V audibly sighed, in both relief and exasperation. She took another drag of her cigarette to relax her nerves and put the pistol away in its holster. Though she wanted to hit her boyfriend in the head with a frying pan, an ear was lent an ear to the music anyways. The melody sounded slightly familiar, resurfacing memories of rides in the car with Johnny and his singing and his skilled fingers plucking at guitar chords, but she couldn’t place what it was. Definitely wasn’t from her time.

She shrugged, puffing out smoke and inhaling some more.

‘I do but I have absolutely no clue what it is’.

Johnny shook his head and pressed long, silver fingers to his temple.

‘Your generation is lost, y’know. Spending your entire damn lives without listenin’ to real music. And all music is good, I’ll say that for sure, but there’s some shit out there that’s special. Bon Jovi is special. Guys were fuckin’ brilliant back in the day, even ‘fore I was even born’, he spoke with passion, eyes shining with excitement and hands gesticulating into the air. Even his southern accent made a slight appearance. 

V watched him with a soft side smile and a warm heart.

‘I guess old music just gets lost in time sometimes’, she responded thoughtfully. ‘It’s sad but it happens a lot’.

Just as she was about to take another drag, Johnny plucked the cigarette from her fingers, led it to his own lips and puffed out smoke before flicking it away. She pouted.

‘Or you gotta expand your horizons, princess. Abandon all that heavy metal shit once in a while and listen to somethin’ different.’

He wasn’t wrong. Her radio and playlists on her holo tended to be much of the same, with Samurai, Kerry’s songs and the Us Cracks here and there. She really should start paying more attention to the music he listened to. It ranged from so many different genres it was hard to keep track of sometimes.

‘Suppose you’re right’, she relented, her side smile widening a bit.

V knew what he was about to suggest before he even opened his mouth. His eyes brightened a little, his smirk grew and he took a step towards her, swaying slightly to the music, flesh hand extending towards her.

‘Oh no, we are not doing this now’, she said, but the corners of her mouth were already curling upwards into a full smile, and she was taking his hand without hesitation. 

He brought her body flush to his and bent down to press a kiss to her lips. She rose onto the tip of her toes and met him halfway.

‘Yes, we are’, grinned Johnny.

His silver hand came to rest around her waist, while his organic one was still pressing her right hand to his chest. He began swaying them in the rhythm of the song, gruff and melodic voice singing the lyrics quietly at first. But as the song picked up, the calm swinging of their bodies turned into spins across the entirety of the room. 

‘I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted dead or alive’, sung Johnny, a little louder this time, eyes shimmering and a smile crossing his lips.

V’s own smile hadn’t left her face, and as their steps went from lightly swaying to spinning across the entirety of the room, it turned into laughter. Johnny twirled her over and over and over again, his strong hold on her kept her steady whenever she slipped on blood and his singing never stopped.

When the guitar solo came up, he made a show of dipping V and placing a kiss on her lips. She smiled into it, left hand coming to rest at the back of his neck as he deepened the kiss. Much to her dismay, though, he pulled away too soon, leaving V to chase his lips with a pout. He grinned, brought them back to a standing position and continued to spin. 

At that moment, there was nobody else but them. No corpses spread about on the floor, no camp to go back to, no passing of time to worry about. V was home right then, with the silver of her eyes reflected on the deep brown of his, his arm around her waist and her hand on his and his smile highlighting the room more than the brightest of lights could. 

She loved how excited he was right then, listening to an old song, singing his heart and soul along, not a care for anything else but that very moment. 

She could also see the appeal this specific song had to him too. How he once lived a life that was lonely in ways he could not understand then, with empty relationships, addiction issues and constantly living on the edge. Just how much he had seen before; before, during and after the war, life as a singer. He had it all, but he couldn’t get rid of that consuming range that did nothing but rid him of humanity. And yet in the end, after seeing the world through her eyes, he stood tall, just like the song said. 

It didn’t matter if there are still people who wanted him dead or alive.

Music gave him life on such a profound level. She understood it to an extent; knew exactly how he felt whenever he talked about artists and genres and compositions and technical terms she only knew because of the Relic; but even with the time they spent sharing a mind, she couldn’t exactly grasp the relationship between music and musician.

She settled for watching it first hand with every second she spent with Johnny, and hoped to learn a little more every time it came up because he cared about it. 

And if Johnny cared about something, so did V.

‘Dead or alive, dead or alive, dead or alive, dead or alive’, Johnny spun her twice as he sung the last verse. 

He guided their fast pace to a light sway again, bending down and touching his cheek with hers. His other arm let go of her hand to wrap around her waist, pulling her close in an embrace. V wrapped her arms around his neck, a happy sigh escaping her throat. 

‘So? D’ya enjoy the song?’, asked Johnny, lips grazing her ear. 

She hummed, pretending to think. 

‘It’s not that bad’.

A displeased sound came from Johnny’s throat. She laughed, and his fingers moved across her waist to her hip and gave it a pinch.

Just messin’ with ya. Sound is real good’.

‘Real good. It’s god-level shit, sweetheart, learn the difference.’

V squeezed him a little tighter, tilting her head to the side to kiss his cheek. His beard scratched her lips. Music she didn’t recognise was softly playing in the background, and before she knew, they were swaying calmly again; didn’t matter that they had a mess to clean and that they were coated in blood; if her feet were soon going to start to hurt from standing on the tip of her toes in heavy, heeled boots, or if his back was going to ache from bending for too long.

‘We oughta get outta here, y’know’.

Johnny hummed, clearly with no intentions of letting go of her anytime soon.

‘Mhm. We’ll worry ‘bout that later. Right now I need you to quit thinkin’. Relax a little, Via’.

She sighed, but her eyes fluttered close anyways.

Mess be damned, they could afford a few more minutes to spare.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Baciami il culo_ translates to kiss my ass and _Vaffanculo_ translates to fuck you.
> 
> I named the red katana Takemura gave Viola in [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29344245) fic Kiyohime after the Japanese legend; and since red is the colour for both love and hate, I think it's quite fitting.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://sea-murai.tumblr.com)


End file.
